


The Fine Line

by kaitlia777



Series: Maverick Crew [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, seriously you know Kirk would have a crew of maverick geniuses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble written to brighten someones day! Set in the same crazy universe as my other Trek fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fine Line

**Author's Note:**

> A little Star Trek XI drabble! It’s set in the same universe as my other Trek fics!

When she’d awoke that morning, moments before the screeching blare of her alarm could jolt her form her dreams, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura had slapped the button to cut off the grating sound before it could begin. Laying in her bed, she smiled and stretched, thinking any day she could avoid hearing that sound began on a positive note.

True, Spock was already up and out, doing what ever it was he did during the wee hours of the morning when she was catching up on her sleep, but that wasn’t anything odd. He was half-Vulcan and required less sleep than she, so it was only logical he make use of the time…though she would admit to feeling a little thrill on the rare mornings she’d wake to find him watching her.

Humming to herself, she showered and dressed for the day, combing her long hair back into a high ponytail before she exited her quarters, heading towards the galley for breakfast. A lot of her friends were on the shame shift as her, so she knew she’d find someone (probably more than one of them) to share the meal with. 

No sooner had she stepped into the hall, when she realized it was going to be one of those days.

Ensign River Maher was in the hall, pirouetting in place for no good reason what so ever. Everyone said the girl was a big old bucket of crazy but Kirk seemed to like her (and not in the way he seemed to like most anything female) and she was a good pilot, so most people on ship just accepted her oddities. Uhura nodded to the younger woman as she passed and received a bright smile in return.

Shaking her head, she continued down the hall, pulling up short as she turned a corner and seemed to walk into a paint factory. A paint factory that had been enthusiastically bombed.

“Morning, Lieutenant,” Lieutenant Lorne from geology greeted he as he looked up from the wall panel he was focusing on. There were already murals on the walls of the common rooms and apparently he’d gotten permission to attack the halls.

She slowly walked through the arch of colors and, with a start, she realized, from this angle, it now seemed like she was walking through a lush forest. Very cool. “This is impressive,” she said as she finished passing through the area which earned a grin from the dark haired artist.

There was a slight tremble in the deck plating, a feeling quite familiar by now. Someone was having a little problem with the still hidden away in the bowels of engineering…either that or one of Scotty’s experiments had gone awry. Either way, they’d handle it. It was best to avoid engineering if possible. It seemed like every time non engineering personnel entered the area, something would fall from the upper levels and the same voice would yell out, “Sorry.” It was odd.

There were some things you just learned to accept when you served aboard Jim Kirk’s ship of Misfit Geniuses. She didn’t even question it when Beth Parker slithered out of one of the air vents before wordlessly darting off down the hall. No one wondered (aloud) how Paul Fraser got the wolf on board as he‘d answer in a meandering and largely confusing Inuit story. It was best not to ask when you saw Damian Crews doing a barefoot and utterly shameless morning after walk of shame wearing a grin and a t-shirt that clearly didn’t belong to him. Same went for Shawn Roday when he came barreling out of the turbo lift, naked, blue haired and carrying a bowl of noodles.

Okay, that one gave her a moments pause, but at least he was using the noodles to cover his own dangly bits until he disappeared into his quarters.

And that was just the crazy shit she happened to pass today while heading to breakfast. Finally arriving at the galley, she entered the room, grabbed a tray and plunked down at a table with Sulu, Chekov and a few other crewman. Spearing a piece of melon with her fork, she watched in fascination as Chekov slathered his waffle with butter, maple syrup and powdered sugar before folding it in half and devouring it in three enormous bites. It was actually pretty impressive and gross at the same time.

“That’s the fifth one he’s done that with,” Sulu told her, then looked back to Chekov. “Gonna try to break your record today?”

Cheeks still filled with half masticated waffle, the ensign merely nodded and in horrified fascination, Uhura had to ask, “What’s the record?”

“12. Scotty’s is 17.”

They said there was a fine line between genius and insanity. Whoever they were, Uhura knew they were right.


End file.
